For JoAnn--Lord of The Ring

"Dwarves don't swim," Gimli said for the seventh time. He tugged at his beard and scowled at the messy pile of Legolas' discarded clothes. "'Tis unnatural."

"The water is not so deep. And it is welcome refreshment from the sun." Legolas turned his head ever so slightly -- just enough to see where Gimli stood upon the lake's shore. "A bath would do you good, my friend."

"Aye, a proper bath. Not a dunking in some muddy pond." Gimli looked up at the sky and his scowl deepened. "The day wanes. Come, Legolas. We should push on if we wish to leave Fangorn this day."

Legolas sighed, and he rose up from the waters, naked and beautiful. The light of the lowering sun made him glow as if he were made of gold and mithril and things most precious and fragile. Gimli felt his breath hitch and he looked away from the sight, embarrassed by his staring.

Even the return of Gandalf from the pits of darkness had not moved him so.

"Must we leave so soon?"

"Perhaps," Gimli said, "we could tarry yet a while."